Child of Fate
by linkofdiamonds
Summary: Ghirahim longed to find the demon, yet he wasn't sure about what he felt about the situation of Link, and yet, the demon was one that had many things in surprise for the hero. (LinkGhira, roleswap AU)


Things were all fun and games until the demon comes barging in. Ghirahim had spent months trying to evade him and find Zelda and save her from the demon and his king, only to inevitably fail, and the Demon Lord Link had managed to achieve his goal.

Ghirahim still remembered the final moments of Link remaining a separate entity, on his knees and laughing. Oh, his laughter was chilling. He'd heard him laugh before, only it sounded like a scoff. After all, Ghirahim was a mere bug in Link's presence. But that laughter was crazed. He had won, and his master was going to be revived. It was only moments before Link was knocked over by his master and he looked like he was being crucified, and the blade he had shown Ghirahim before their last fight was pulled forcefully from his chest. Link had laughed, but the sound was pained and giddy at the same time. It had scared the hero and that laughter was something he woke up from a nightmare occasionally, the sound echoing in his mind for quite a while after. The laughter of a man who had won, but it had cost him his life.

And then after Ghirahim had defeated Demise, that blade had broken into light and scattered. He was unsure if Link had broken, or if he was freeing himself from Demise's rule. It was still as if Link was gone. And then the Demon Lord was out of his life.

Even though the Surface was safe, or after he and Zelda decided to stay there, helping people move from Skyloft, Ghirahim had dreams about Link, but it wasn't about the threats he snarled at blade point, but of the other rush of lust.

Yes, Ghirahim dreamed of having sexual relations with the living weapon. Sometimes it was he who bowed over Link's chest, thrusting inside him and making the demon squirm and moan as he kissed his chest. Other times it was Link who kissed his lips and applied his attention to Ghirahim's neck. Oh, in dreams it felt so good. Sometimes it felt like they were making love and other times it was the opposite, the two drawing blood from each other as they fucked.

When he woke up, the sheets sticky from his release, or his cock aching like he needed to, he was always saddened that there was nobody in the bed beside him and his heart ached as he either rolled out of bed and cleaned up or finished the job.

Either way, his dreams were plagued by Link and he had no stopping it. He did crave the demon though. It was clear he had feelings for Link, but he had no idea if demons could have emotions or anything like them. Though, Ghirahim had no way to tell if the emotion was mere lust or something much more than that.

Sometimes he had been given a fleeting sensation of touch and it made him keen for more. He wanted to actually touch in return and it was like someone touched his body and vanished right after it registered in his body that he was.

Out of the corner of his hearing, he heard the snap and break of Link's teleportation when he fought him or just any time he teleported. Oh how ironic that that had happened right after he had thought it.

He could just leave it and let it die, but then again who was he? Ghirahim was one person who simply never let things die. So he followed the direction of the sound, drawing his bow and notching an arrow on the string, his brow furrowing in concentration. He had to stay safe and arm himself just in case the demon was planning on doing harm. After all, Link was quite volatile in nature and that's what had Ghirahim so enamored with him.

As he chased the source of the sound, Ghirahim could hear the whispers of Link's words echo in his ears from the time they fought, and his body summoned phantom touches. It made his skin jittery, but he continued to push on. He wasn't going to let ghosting words and touches bother him.

His chest heaved, legs starting to burn, and all he could hear was the heavy thud of his pulse in his ears and the loud crack of Link's magic, other than the sounds of nature happening around him as he ran. He was not alone out there after all, and there was the occasional crack of a twig under his boot.

The demon just couldn't stop bothering him, could he? He was frustrating to the very bone. But then again, for some reason, Ghirahim couldn't help but be attracted to that.

Again, he hated himself for that.

Link was infuriating, Ghirahim had to give him that, but for some twisted reason, the hero had come to have some sort of grudging emotion on his part towards the demon lord. Most likely grudging respect. After all, Ghirahim did not know many people who would actually end up doing so much for an evil overlord that would stop at nothing to take every scrap of land for his own. But then again, he only knew two people in existence that were actually swords, and Fi never was one that would have been like that, loyal without any consideration.

But Link... Link had feelings. Unlike Fi, the demon lord had his own thoughts and emotions independent of anyone. It wasn't a blank stare that Ghirahim had received when ever they ran into each other, no, the glare in those eyes was heated with dangerous emotion. He calculated his way through Ghirahim's guard, called him lazy before almost pummeling the life out of him.

Even though Link had promised not to kill Ghirahim up front, and even though he had promised torture to Ghirahim, he had never truly acted on that promise spit at him through venomous hate due to the fact Ghirahim had got in his way of capturing Zelda at his second opportunity. He eventually did get his grabby hands on her, and he had been so very smug as he resurrected his master.

In the end, Link had only been tossed aside as a servant, the spirit left for the weapon he guarded, tossed aside like last week's trash, and then his weapon was destroyed and the spirit along with it. Or so Ghirahim and Zelda had thought at first as they discussed what they wanted to do with their lives.

And then Link suddenly came back into his life, and it was like he had never left.

His mouth watered at the idea of seeing him, and his sight blurred with tears as he darted through the woods, trying to ignore the burn in his muscles, fearing that Link would leave and he would lose the trail. He was unsure if the tears were due to exhaustion from running, or if it was from the thought of seeing Link again.

After a few more minutes, Ghirahim had to stop, the burn too great. He stopped, leaning over with his hands on his knees and panted, chest heaving, and heart pounding so quickly he thought he'd drop dead. But, to his surprise, all Ghirahim could hear over the pounding of blood in his ears was a shimmering sound that sounded almost like static.

And then he guessed he wouldn't be losing his trail after all, and once his heart and breathing rates and slowed down so it wasn't as heart wrenching to run after him, Ghirahim continued, and the chase resumed, pulling the boy from anywhere he had been to somewhere he had never seen, and entered a clearing. A tall tree, long dead, snaked up to touch the sky in a small grove.

Steps wound down the trunk of the tree, looking like they had been attached some how long ago, maybe being nailed to the trunk, and had since become part of the tree itself.

The shimmer-static noise disappeared, and Ghirahim noticed something that seemed somewhat out of place. The steps lead to a strange looking dwelling where it would have been the largest part of the tree branches while it was still living.

The hero sighed, crossing the grove and started to climb up the steps to the top, carefully picking his way up, wondering how it was able to stay like this for so long without rotting away, and when he finally came to the top, the door to the abode in the tree, Ghirahim gently opened it and entered.

A cot was sprawled out on the floor, empty jars and bottles discarded with a few forks and spoons in one corner of the area by it. A small pile of clothes was discarded on the floor by the bed. The blanket there seemed to be thin and unable to retain much heat and the pillow looked harder than Groose's abs. Those were not nice to sleep on.

Ghirahim glanced around the room, seeing what else lay in the space, seeing two chairs made out of some soft object, and one was empty and the other...

Well, to say the least, Ghirahim didn't have to look much further for the demon.

Link held a haggard experience; the purple on his eyelid smudged, as if he had nothing to fix it with, and his hair was a dirty mess, and he slouched in the odd chair, his cloak draped over him like a blanket. Dark blue eyes turned to stare at him, and the demon stiffened, shifting in the chair to hold up a hand in surrender.

"I am unable to harm you, Ghirahim." Link sighed, moving to sit up.

Ghirahim hadn't planned on going for his weapons, but it was a reassurance that Link wouldn't attack him, and so he blinked and watched as the demon moved to stand, being a good foot taller than the hero. It was infuriating to actually take in. Tall and thin. The opposite of Ghirahim's shorter and stockier body, and he did have a little weight on his body.

The demon glowered at him with annoyance, as if he was a small child that wouldn't stop crying.

"Well?" Ghirahim waved a hand, sweeping though the air without a second thought. "Why are you here?"

Link cocked his visible eyebrow, before sighing. "I doubted you would recognise the significance of this treehouse." Ghirahim frowned and shook his head in protestation to the question. "Exactly. Now, this place is somewhere I once spent a lot of time as a child."

Ghirahim had to bite his tongue lightly to keep from saying something about that statement and the demon still acting like an immature child whenever he didn't get his way. "Sure, whatever, tough guy." He muttered dismissively before seeing a flash of white and light coloured skin whipping in front of him before he was pinned to the wall of the treehouse, Link snarling in his face.

"I suggest you lose that tone of voice, my dear boy, lest you wish to be harmed." His voice was quiet, a severe look on his face that meant Ghirahim was not going to be horsing around much longer before being splattered over the walls like some sort of sick, sadistic paint.

Ghirahim's own hands reached up to clasp at the demon's forearms, eyes narrowed quite dangerously at the other, before the demon let out a hacking cough and slumped forward. As his weight fell on Ghirahim, the hero let out an indignant shriek, his arms going to clasp around the demon instinctively; oh, goddesses, he was heavy.

Link's breathing was ragged and Ghirahim glanced around the room, as if expecting someone else in the room with them, and carefully managed somehow to get him to the cot and place him on it. "What's wrong with you?" He asked the Demon Lord, silver eyebrows pinched in worry. Not that he really worried about Link. Screw that he worried about the well being of the demon.

"Mortality does not suit me any more." He murmured, and the words seemed odd coming from the demon.

"What?" Ghirahim asked, leaning over him slightly, and tired eyes stared up at him.

"Must I repeat myself, boy?" Link sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes, smudging his purple eye shadow a little more in the process.

"You didn't make yourself clear, Link." Ghirahim told him and Link muttered something under his breath. "Pardon?"

"_Lord_ Link, mind you." He spoke up, giving him a gesture Ghirahim could only interpret as rude. His actions hadn't changed at all. How surprising.

"Very mature of you. Exactly like a child." Ghirahim told him and Link sighed, scrubbing his hands over his eyes.

"How long has it been?" He asked, changing the subject. "How long has it been since you defeated my master?"

"About two years." Link blinked a few times in surprise.

"Figures. I've never been too good with time." He sighed.

"Now what about that sentence." Ghirahim asked him, snapping almost.

"I am no longer a demon. I was torn from that race when the sword that supports my being has been taken from me, and I am in need of getting it back, or binding myself to a new sword, but I doubt there are any mortal weapons near the standard I need to use." He sighed. "Not permanently, but I may be able to bind myself to the best sword available to keep myself from catching up with the years I've lived. Which is a lot." He moved to sit up.

"The highest grade of weapon that the Hylians have right now are all basic swords from the Knight Academy."

"So, you silly mortals have finally descended to the surface and took back the name of your ancestors."h

"From what you're saying, it sounds like you are a 'silly mortal'." To that point, it was clear his ego had been poked and it was a humiliating jab, as he winced and carefully turned onto his side.

"I am not foolish. And nor was the only Hylian I remember having any respect for, but of course, he was special." He muttered and Ghirahim's world suddenly tilted and went black.


End file.
